


worth a thousand words

by whenyouheldtheknife



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grantaire is cute, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Other, Photographs, Relationship(s), enjolras is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenyouheldtheknife/pseuds/whenyouheldtheknife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a photograph of him and Grantaire smiling, arms around each other, and Enjolras recognizes the park where it was taken immediately. He glances at the blank strip underneath the photo and sees Grantaire’s untidy scrawl there. It reads, Enjolras - get ready and dress nicely, then come meet me where we had our first actual date by noon. Love, R.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worth a thousand words

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i had this idea during politics class and i've been writing it for ages don't even touch me augh  
> 2) this was just a cute thing and i decided that the les mis fandom could use some cute stuff!!  
> 3) my tumblr is enjolrasactual if anyone is interested uvu  
> 4) let me know if i did okay??

It’s about half-past ten in the morning, but the sun is already starting to stream in between the blinds in the bedroom. The light creeps up the comforter wrapped tightly around Enjolras and when it reaches his face, he turns over and grumbles to himself. Reaching out for Grantaire, Enjolras comes up empty-handed and grumpier than usual. Where is his boyfriend? Enjolras isn’t a morning person to begin with, but this is starting to become downright unacceptable. 

Scowling deeply (or so he would like to think; Enjolras is far more of a pouter in the morning than anything else), he sits up and stretches, glancing around through sleep-slitted eyes for any signs of Grantaire. The only one they latch on to is a Polaroid photograph propped up on his nightstand. 

Enjolras shifts over and grabs at the picture, looking at it with some scrutiny. It’s a photograph of him and Grantaire smiling, arms around each other, and Enjolras recognizes the park where it was taken immediately. He glances at the blank strip underneath the photo and sees Grantaire’s untidy scrawl there. It reads, _Enjolras - get ready and dress nicely, then come meet me where we had our first actual date by noon. Love, R._

——

Their first actual date. Enjolras smiles for the first time since he’s been awake and gets out of bed, fondly remembering the picnic the two of them had had together that day. It had been warm and breezy and their blanket had almost blown away, prompting both men to lie down on it to keep it still. They had laughed so hard when the wind got too strong and pushed their basket a foot away instead, but it was worth it in the end: Enjolras had had an amazing time that day with Grantaire. 

As he goes about their small, shared apartment getting ready, Enjolras finds more and more photographs: one taped to the mirror in the bathroom right at Enjolras’s height, one propped up against Enjolras’s coffee mug in the cabinet, another in the pocket of Enjolras’s nicest jacket, and still another taped over the peephole inside the door. Each image is different; some are of just Enjolras, some are of him and Grantaire, and some are of them with all of their friends. Enjolras’s favorite is one that he thinks either Comebferre or Courfeyrac took of them together: in it, the sun is setting behind them and Enjolras is looking straight at the camera, a laugh crinkling his nose. Grantaire, however, is looking directly at Enjolras with a soft look in his eyes. The caption simply reads: _I think this is when I properly fell in love with you._

——

It’s a quick walk in the sunny morning to the park for Enjolras, whose limbs are practically tingling with anticipation at finally seeing his boyfriend. 

When he arrives to the park, however, Enjolras is surprised that he doesn’t find Grantaire: instead, he finds Jehan waiting for him, leaning against the tree where he and Grantaire had taken the picture. The long-haired man sees Enjolras and stands upright, waving hugely at him and calling his name. 

"Jehan? Where’s Grantaire?" Enjolras asks once he gets close enough, a frown already forming on his face. Why wouldn’t Grantaire be waiting here for him? "It’s a pleasure to see you too, Enjolras," Jehan answers, a grin spreading across his face. He reaches into the breast pocket on his shirt and pulls out another Polaroid picture, holding it out to Enjolras. "I’m sure you’ve already seen enough of these today." 

Enjolras smiles and takes it, looking at the photo. This one is of him from where he stood behind a podium - that was his first extremely successful public speech, the one where nearly a thousand people showed up. Enjolras remembers feeling so alive, as if he had been glowing from the inside-out. Something about this picture captures that feeling for Enjolras, and his heart catches in his throat when he looks at the caption Grantaire wrote for him: _I love it when you get so passionate about your causes. It makes me feel like I could believe in something._

Jehan is watching Enjolras closely. “Ready to go?” he asks when Enjolras finally looks up. He tucks a stray reddish-blond curl of hair behind his own ear, grinning as Enjolras just looks down at the photo and then back up. 

"Yes, of course. I’m just wondering - why didn’t Grantaire show up here?" 

Jehan shrugs and barely hides a smile. “Maybe he’ll show up at the next place.” 

——

Grantaire did not show up at the next place. Enjolras feels a little bit lied to, but he supposes that he doesn’t mind it if he gets to see another photograph. 

Feuilly is standing behind the podium, casually leaning against it and checking his phone. He straightens up when Jehan calls up to him and puts his phone away, a small smile on his face. “That took you long enough!” he called down. The man backed away from the podium, letting Enjolras stand behind it and look down at the photograph that Grantaire had placed there. 

"Not even a hello?" Feuilly muttered to Jehan as they stood side by side. 

Jehan didn’t look up, as he was texting Grantaire to let him know where Enjolras was, but he nodded. “He’s really absorbed in this. Grantaire’s going to be thrilled.” 

Enjolras doesn’t hear them, looking at the next photograph. This is of Grantaire standing nervously in front of a crowd of his own - it’s at his gallery showing, Enjolras realizes. He can tell by the way Grantaire is holding himself: shoulders struggling to stay broad and confident, the nervous smile, the pressed clothes. This caption reads, _I remember being so nervous about this showing. It was big for me and I didn’t tell you or anyone about it because I didn’t want you guys to see my work. But you showed up anyway, dragging all of our friends behind you, and I think that was what helped me get through that time. I wouldn’t have made it without you._ The writing is squashed to fit all the words, but Enjolras does make out a small heart at the end. 

"Do we go here next, to where Grantaire had that showing of his photographs?" Enjolras asks, turning and speaking to Feuilly for the first time. Realizing this, he adds a belated, "Hello, by the way," but that only serves to make Jehan crack up. 

Feuilly nods. “Come on, I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” 

——

Enjolras is getting less and less surprised when Grantaire isn’t waiting for him, but he is surprised to find Marius and Cosette walking through the gallery together instead. “You two?” he says, before he can realize that that might be rude. He does follow it up with a hasty apology, but now even Feuilly is struggling not to laugh. 

Cosette smiles widely. “It’s good that you’re here! You’re a little behind schedule, you know,” she half-chided Enjolras, a teasing smile wrapping itself around her lips. 

She looks to Marius, who is already holding out a photograph for Enjolras to take and look at. “And you used to mock me for being in love,” he teases. Enjolras has the decency to blush at the comment. 

The picture is of Enjolras and Grantaire’s hands. Enjolras recognizes it from being in the gallery showing, and he would recognize Grantaire’s hands anywhere: he adores them, adores the way they hold his own hands, adores the calluses on them that show how hard Grantaire works, and he especially adores their warmth when they’re holding him close at night. 

_I love every part of you, but I think I love the way your hands hold mine the most. Why don’t you go to the Musain and see what you find?_

Enjolras smiles widely and looks up at his friends, who have been half-watching him. “To the Musain!” he exclaims, giddy with the prospect of what could be waiting for him there. 

——

"It’s not our anniversary," Enjolras muses aloud as he pushes open the doors to the Musain, with Jehan, Feuilly, Marius, and Cosette in tow. He would know if it was their anniversary; it would be marking five years that they had been together and Enjolras would only forget such a date for very important reasons, if at all. 

"No, but it is a special day!" Courfeyrac exclaims from the table he had been sitting at with Combeferre. Enjolras glances up, surprised, and grins when he sees the two of them stand to greet him with hugs and handshakes. "Go on, I think you’ll really love this one," Courfeyrac nudges him, a sly grin on his face. 

Enjolras glances at Combeferre as he takes the picture, but the man just smiles. “I’m not responsible for any jokes Courfeyrac might make after today,” is all he says, and that’s enough to make Enjolras glance down at the picture. 

Oh. Maybe that’s why Courfeyrac was so eager to hand the photo over: it’s of Enjolras, curled up and asleep on the couch in his and Grantaire’s apartment, a blanket thrown over him. There are more than a few bottles of wine strewn around the area and Enjolras flushes dark red, remembering that night. He and Grantaire had had a night in after they couldn’t agree on somewhere to go out and eat, so they had stayed in and had too much to drink instead. Enjolras had told Grantaire that he loved him that night, the words slurred, and then called Courfeyrac and Combeferre separately the next day to panic when he woke up in Grantaire’s apartment without the other man there. 

_You looked so peaceful when you were asleep; I hope you forgive me for taking this picture. This was the first night you said you loved me, after almost a year of dating, and I had to commemorate the moment somehow. Meet me back home. I promise I’ll be there this time._

"Well, Sleeping Beauty? Are you ready to head back?" Courfeyrac asks, his eyebrows waggling up and down as he watches Enjolras. Jehan elbows him and grins. 

"I suppose," Enjolras answers slowly, tucking the Polaroid away with all the others he’s collected throughout the day. "Will he actually be there?" 

It’s Jehan who answers. “Yes,” he says, with a tone of finality. “He just had to get you out of the house for a bit.” 

Enjolras has to wonder why on earth Grantaire would need to do that, but he can’t think of a single reason why. 

\--—

Jehan, Feuilly, Marius, Cosette, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre are in tow as Enjolras begins the trek back to the apartment. Everyone is chatting animatedly as Enjolras stays silent, trying to puzzle through what could be going on and why Grantaire would need him out of the house for so long; it’s nearing two in the afternoon as he’s now walked all over town. 

Waiting just outside his apartment building, to no one’s surprise but Enjolras’s, are Eponine, Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel, and even Musichetta. Everyone is waving and smiling and Enjolras feels his heart skip a beat. “What are you all doing here?” he asks, pausing to greet everyone and have everyone greet everyone else. 

"We had to be here for this!" Eponine says, smiling so brightly that Enjolras briefly wonders if she’s feeling well. 

"For what?" he questions, but no one answers him, all pretending to be too busy talking to each other. Shrugging it off, Enjolras lets himself and everyone else in to the apartment complex before walking up the stairs the two flights to reach his apartment. Everyone’s gone quiet as Enjolras fiddles with the lock on the door and as he opens it, he turns to his friends and asks, "What, cat has your tongues now?" 

But everyone is looking into the apartment, mouths slightly open, and Enjolras turns around. 

Grantaire is on bended knee in front of him, looking up at Enjolras nervously. All around him, Polaroid photographs are hanging by strings of various colors. Enjolras’s eyes dart from picture to picture, seeing either him or Grantaire in every one of them, each one with its own unique caption, and he’s speechless. 

"I know that I’ve been leading you around all day, and that this might not be up to your standards, and that I’m not nearly good enough for you, but I’m a selfish man. But I love you more than any picture I could take or words that I could write would ever be able to express, and I promise I will love you until we die or you grow sick of me, whatever comes first, I guess." Grantaire pauses, taking a deep breath, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little black box. He opens it and Enjolras thinks his heart might have actually stopped. "So - So Gabriel Enjolras, will you marry me?" 

There’s a long moment of silence where Enjolras tries to clear his throat for long enough to say, “Yes. A thousand times over again, yes.” He surges forward and drops to his knees in front of Grantaire, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and kissing him hard and square on the mouth. Behind him, their friends are whooping and cheering and clapping, and Enjolras wonders what took him so long to figure this out. 

Grantaire pulls back, beaming broadly, and his eyes are shining brightly. “I love you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to Enjolras’s, looking his now-fiance straight in the eye. 

"I love you too," Enjolras answers, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Until we die. I’ll never get sick of you." 

"Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure one day I’ll forget to buy your favorite brand of coffee." 

"Be serious, Grantaire. I’ll love you forever." 

"And that’s why I’m marrying you." Grantaire leans forward and connects their lips again, ignoring the sound of Courfeyrac whistling in the background as he holds Enjolras more tightly to him. 


End file.
